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Second "Design Recharge" Interview: April 1, 2015In this second interview with Diane Gibbs at "Design Recharge" we focus on International Fake Journal Month. If you're wondering just what that is, I give a great description of it, and why you might want to participate. Also check out our earlier interview (below on this list) if you want more information about how I approach visual journaling.

First "Design Recharge" Interview: February 12, 2015Diane Gibbs of Design Recharge interviewed me for International Fake Journal Month (2015). We get a little side tracked and talk a lot about sketching, visual journaling, and my creative process. It's a great interview.

Where Is Roz Blogging?

Podcasts with Roz

Danny Gregory and I Discuss Visual JournalingSadly a two part podcast from May 2008 made with Danny Gregory, author of "An Illustrated Life," is not currently available. We talked about journaling, art media, and materials…If this becomes available again in the future I will let you know.

Finding Bits of TimeRicë Freeman-Zachery, author of "Creative Time and Space," talks to me about finding time to be creative. (Taped October 23, 2009.)

Sports

September 06, 2013

Above: My favorite sketch from this year's fair. A white Bantam cock with gold neck feathers and a band of brown feathers across the top of his back and part of his wings. A very self-assured gent who watched me the whole time, rather unamused. Faber-Castell Pitt Artist's Calligraphy Pen and Daniel Smith Watercolors on 8 x 8 inch 140 lb. Fluid hot press watercolor paper. Click on the iamge to view an enlargement.

People who attended the Fifth Minnesota State Fair Sketch Out on August 27, 2013 already know it was 97 degrees with a heat index of 103! In fact it was so hot and there was enough humidity in the air that I had trouble with my watercolor paper! It was very limp and didn't dry out quickly at all, and it was difficult to sketch on with any of the pens I bought.

But that's the fun of this type of field sketching. You just keep at it with what you have on hand.

I was able to go to the Fair for a couple hours on the first Friday, and a couple hours on the last Friday. It was hot on all those dates (of course the last weekend it cooled off but I couldn't go). My Fair journal for this year is rather small—about 8 loose journal cards per visit (I indexed them, but haven't even counted them).

Because of the heat I slowed down while sketching and I also spent a lot of time not sketching but just staring at the animals. (I swear sometimes I actually passed out standing up.)

So I think I learned a lot. The loose cards were a disaster because of my injured shoulder and elbow. Everytime I put one away I had to loosen my fanny pack and swing it around, then reverse the process and cinch it up. I was a basket case of pain by the time I got home. Next year I'll take a bound journal and just keep it out the entire time I'm sketching. (Deep pockets keep all my tools and pens ready at a moment's notice.)

It was also very clear to me (as it is every year, but especially this year) that all I really care about at the Fair is sketching the animals. I might make attempts at sketching the crowd and the buildings, but all the while the thought goes through my head, why aren't you in the barns?

This makes me an unsuitable companion for anyone interested in seeing anything else at the Fair. Unless they want to see it on their own. But it also makes me really happy when we have the sketch out because then I can see, through the eyes of the other artists, all the great things that I'm missing. I can eat my Dole Treat, get a brain freeze, and smile—happy that I know so many observant and talented folks!

Below: One of my favorite sketches from my short jaunt to the Fair on the final Friday. Same paper, but this time a Staedtler Pigment Liner. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

August 16, 2013

Above: map showing location of the MSFSO 5 meeting—Join us at 4:30 p.m. Click on the map to view an enlargement.

Tuesday, August 27, 2013 is MSFSO 5 or the Fifth Minnesota State Fair Sketch Out.

Join us for some sketching fun. We will meet at the food table area shown in the map above at 4:30 p.m. on that day.

I know the location "as near the Taffy annex to the food building," but it is also near the Ag-Hort Building (where I suggest you stop and view the Crop Art Display). But if you're less familiar with the Fair buildings, then note down the street names in the map and find us that way.

We can't reserve a table in this crowded food court, so if you arrive a little before 4:30 scope out the entire area for people hanging on to sketchbooks. If it is raining, go into the Ag Hort Building and hang out in the center of that building (all halls meet in the center) and we'll find you.

We'll use our meeting time to share our work, discuss our fun adventures, and recount great conversations we've overheard. We'll commiserate about exploding pens, and toes crushed beneath stollers. We'll take photos of pages you want to place on Urban Sketchers—Twin Cities; and of course I'll also pass out the great year 5 button featuring Suzanne Hughes' great drawing. (Read that post to find out how to get your button. I'll have buttons at the Collective meeting Monday, August 19 for anyone who has attended the MSFSO before.)

Please use the MCBA Visual Journal Collective's Yahoo Group List or Facebook page to arrange for sketching buddies or meet-up times before and after the official meeting. And as you walk through the Fairgrounds keep your eyes peeled for other sketchers—Be sure to say "Hi!"

NOTE: Ken Avidor has informed me that this is the last year for Heritage Square. It is going to be taken down to make room for a transit hub. So besides this being the last year for looking through the printing museum and munching on turkey drumsticks (sure I suppose you can get them somewhere else, but really…) this is the last time to enjoy this corner of the Fair. Ken is going to focus his drawing time right there. I suggest that we all put in a little time there as well, capturing as much of it as we can from our different perspectives. That will make a fun group of sketches to share. So be sure to stop for at least a little while at Heritage Square on the 27th.

July 29, 2013

Above: very quick sketch of a dog using Montana Acrylic Marker, gouache, and a smidge of Pentel Pocket Brush Pen for those great black lines. Click on the image to view an enlargement. (Not quite 9 x 12 inches, on a piece of Fluid 140 CP watercolor paper.)

At this time of year my mind always turns to "what can I get down on paper as fast as I can?" Why? Not just because the Minnesota State Fair is coming up (which it is), but because it's PAWS ON GRAND!

Sunday, August 4, 2013 from noon to 3 p.m. a group of artists (myself included) will attempt to sketch a ton of dogs (much more than a pack), one lovely wet nose at a time.

Go to the corner side of the building and there will be awnings out to protect the artists from the sun. Sign up and receive a number. As soon as an artist is finished with the previous portrait someone will call out the next number and that artist will make a portrait of the next pet. (There are chairs for you to sit in opposite the artists as we draw. Otherwise you'll be standing—though there are water dishes out for the pups, and we do have biscuits to thank them when we finish their portraits.)

I am fortunate (or crazy enough) to have participated in this event since it started (I think it has been held for 5 years, but I lose count). It has become more and more popular—I mean what's not fun about watching artists melt down as they work as quickly as possible with models who don't stand still, but are darn cute! (Why isn't this a reality show? Ken Avidor is pretty entertaining, let me tell you!)

Because the event is so popular I recommend that you come early. Based on how quickly we are working at the front end of this event, and allowing for fatigue, at some point Virginia, who organizes this event, does a rough guestimate of how many portraits we have left in us. Then she stops handing out numbers. So if you come at 2:45 you'll be able to still see us sketching, but you might not be able to get a number. Come early, it's more fun to socialize with all the other folks and the dogs anyway.

In past years I've worked in black Stabilo All, and in blue Stabilo Tones, and frankly I'm a little concerned about how my waxy pencils are always melting on me and jamming up my sharpeners. One year I went through SEVEN pencil sharpeners (double-barrelled sharpeners)!

So I'm already thinking what can I use that will allow me to work fast, and get something down on paper.

I have to tell you right now I have no idea what I'll use on the day, but I know I'm going to have a lot of fun. (I plan to sit next to Ken Avidor.)

I hope you can join us, support a dog charity, and socialize with other dog and pet owners all up and down Grand Ave. in St. Paul. (Well-behaved pups are allowed in Wet Paint, so you can always pick up some art supplies while you wait for your number to be called.)

And you don't have to just bring a dog—cats might be a little nervous with all the dogs hanging out, but people have brought birds, and last year a woman brought a bat. Ken did the most wonderful drawing of it! The owner had it in a sock or something I think.

Anyway, we're going to have fun and you're simply silly for not joining us.

April 04, 2013

Periodically I like to post guest posts. Today's guest is Dick. The other day he wrote the following indented note to a co-worker who's interested in sports. I asked if I could use it on my blog.

Background: Dick doesn't watch sports on TV, even when my dad visits and golf reigns. He'll politely leave the room. But I guess sometimes you touch base with events just so you can comment and be involved?

That's a slippery slope of behavior which has led me to watch all manner of shows beginning with "Star Trek" and winding through "Project Runway," "Top Chef," "Pawn Stars," "American Pickers," a little bit of horse racing, and anything to do with art fraud. Sometimes you find your own interest hooked in ways your friend's might not have been, and the habit persists.

Friday evening I switched on the Michigan game for a moment. Looking at the Michigan bench with everyone in the bright yellow uniforms Roz explained:

“They’re painful to look at. They look like a box of Peeps. That’s the shade of yellow that makes you want to get up and adjust the color on your TV set. "

I switched to the Oregon game. She then said:

"Oregon looks like a bunch of leprechauns. It's like they were all pulled out of a box of Lucky Charms."

When did college basketball uniforms get so goofy looking?

Like Dick I too wonder about the color and cut of college basketball uniforms. I appreciate that the pants are longer now because frankly every time I rewatch "The Bachelor and the Bobby-soxer," and see Shirley Temple's young beau Jerry (played by Johny Sands) jump around on the basketball court in tight short-short-shorts, well, frankly I fear for him. So we've come a long way. And since I wear all my clothing (except shoes) two sizes too large (I'm claustrophobic, what can I say), I can't complain when others want to be comfortable as well, especially when they are leaping up to make impressive slam dunks. But I do think there is a middle ground between the short-short-shorts and culottes.

What, you don't rewatch "The Bachelor and the Bobby-soxer"? Well I can't say much about that except it's a great vehicle for Cary Grant's comedic skills; and you remind me of a man…

January 23, 2013

Above: Minnesota Twins 1963 Yearbook. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

I love this cover type and art. It seems totally of its time, in the same way that the ornate curlicued typography of the various jars and cans I've posted in the past represents the time in printing history of those objects.

Looking at all this printed stuff over time I see how, without knowing it, preferences for composition (and negative space) have seeded in my own mind, often with two vastly different historical notions ending side by side (and perhaps not coexisting well at all).

If you find yourself in a "antiques" mall, find some printed matter to cast your eyes over. Even a large collection of National Geographic will tell you much about how printing and typography and visual tastes change over time. Some really great designs grew out of printing limitations that many designers never face today. And every age has its excesses. They are just differently expressed.

December 30, 2012

It's December 30. The foot of snow we had on December 9 has melted and compacted a bit, and been dusted with a couple fresh, light applications of additional snow—just enough to make everything look quite pretty.

Since there is no heat wave in the forecast and only one more day in the year, it is a given that I will not be riding my bike outside today or tomorrow and that biking for the year is really over. (Well it's been over since that snow!)

I like to look back at my year and assess my goals. One goal I had for 2012 was to ride 2,500 miles outside on my bike. I hit 2,507 miles on Saturday, October 14.

It was a long riding season. The 2011-12 winter was warm and mild so the months at the beginning of 2012 were warmish and snow free. By spring of 2012 I'd ridden my bike at least one day every month of the previous 12 months. This year, 2012, I've been on a ride at least one day in every month of the year as well, though biking ended much earlier for me this year than in 2011.

(I won't ride outside when it gets below about 35 degrees Fahrenheit and if there is rain or ice on the road.)

I have to share something with you all, because this blog is about my enthusiasms, and because biking is probably one of my main enthusiasms, and because I'm a bicycling addict, but I believe I actually found balance this year—though it didn't start out that way…

Typically I will ride a route that takes me 17 miles through the city, on dedicated paths where other bikers commute, or simply exercise. It's a wonderful thing to be able to cut through the city like that, see a cross section of neighborhoods, and just go and go without much interference from cars.

I have other routes that take me along the parkway. Those are beautiful routes along the Mississippi River Gorge. I've seen eagles and hawks (within 6 feet of me) and a variety of other birds. There is shade from the sun. It's all pretty wonderful.

It is so wonderful, and I love riding my bike so much, that we (Dick and I) have actually put a cap on what I can ride in a day—17 miles, which I can do in an hour. Otherwise I would be tempted each week to go farther. Instead I concentrate on going faster, or riding better (however I define that on a given day—but typically it means crushing some 24-year-old).

Cycling is my time. No one to talk with, nothing to do but peddle, concentrate on my breathing; just thinking. Thinking, thinking, thinking. I come up with the best ideas when I am biking.

And the endorphins are not to be sneered at. It's a hard high to come down from at the end of the season when I have to start riding inside on a bike attached to a trainer. (Indoor miles are just not the same, even though the ceiling fan directly above me does provide a little bit of a breeze.)

I began again at zero on January 1, 2012. My goal was to get out as much as possible again, within the constraints of "the hour-a-day for cardio" rules we'd set up. I had a vague sense that I'd like to get to 2,500 miles again this year, just to show myself it wasn't a fluke. But other than that I didn't have any goals. I just wanted to keep riding because when I keep riding my knees feel great and I can bound up stairs. Stop riding, no bounding.

Every year since I've returned to biking in 2008 the pressure has increased—the pressure to ride more and more. It's an internal pressure. I just love cycling. When I talk about it people always look askance at me and say, "Why does Dick have any say in what you ride each day?"

What people don't understand is that the person living with the addict (that would be Dick, living with me the addict) has to deal with the fallout when things go into a tailspin. And besides that I've always talked my workouts over with Dick, he did coach after all. And except for that stupid idea of restricted breathing he's been a pretty good sounding board.

I like to think of myself as independent, and low maintenance. In most things I think Dick will agree I am both of those things. But in other aspects of my life Dick is pretty much the gravity that holds me on the planet. So if I am going to do some dumb ass move like ride 80 miles a day and fall apart physically, the least I can do is talk it over with him first—since he'll have to put me together later.

I avoid the whole issue by not riding 80 miles a day. But don't think I haven't thought about it. Only my respect for Dick, and his already full plate of activities, keeps me from doing that.

Now that you know all that you'll understand what happened—and how it was a nerve wracking, but exciting time this fall.

Once I hit 2,500 miles for 2012 I started to do the math. This is an involved equation dividing miles left into days left when days left in the season is figured out by voodoo calculations and old weather data and current bad projections by "weathermen."

It was October and I started to get a little panicky. For a couple days I said to myself, "I think I can make it to 3,000." Then for a couple days I would redo the math and say, "Nope, don't even try. It's going to snow." Other days I would say, "What if? What if we lifted the 17-mile-a-day limit?"

After about 8 days "What if?" started to be all I thought about. All calculations started to take "What if?" into consideration. "What if I rode 20 miles every day, 23 miles everyday, what is the limit I can ride?"

Another reason I don't ride over 17 miles on a daily basis is that road noise bothers my hands when I ride 22 miles a day for more than 3 days in a row. (At least it always has.)

My desk was littered with scraps of paper with day counts and mile counts and projections. I was in thrall to my addiction. I had another goal. I wanted to reach 3,000.

I did what any addict would do. I went to my enabler and presented a rational, reasonable case as to why the hour ban should be lifted.

First I admitted to the low back problems I'd had since returning from teaching color theory (and having 4 days off). (I just came back way too strong with a 22 mile speed day. Stupid.)

Second, I assured him that if I reached 3,000 I wouldn't just turn around and say, "Let's go for 3,500," because "Look, there aren't going to be the days. It's going to snow. I know that."

(I didn't really KNOW that, but I KNEW that in my heart.)

Third, I promised to stop if the road noise bothered my hands enough to hamper my work effort. If my hands were numb when I tried to work for hours and hours I would become pretty grumpy pretty fast and it would be worse than being unable to bound up stairs.

Fourth, I explained that I'd really thought about all this and knew that I wanted to go for this goal. I didn't think I'd get these miles next year and it might be my last time. But most importantly I believed that if I could lift the ride limit and give this a go, I'd be happy with whatever resulted, and I wouldn't feel like an addict.

(I know, incredible bullshit comes out of my mouth when I talk to people.)

And fifth and finally—I shut up, and waited.

Because my dad, and every successful businessman who has started as a salesman has always told me, talk and then shut up—the first person to speak is hooked.

And I waited.

And then LB looked at me with complete understanding and compassion and went over each of my points one by one. Waiting for me to nod in agreement. And gave me exactly what I wanted, his complete support—to ride as much as I wanted.

Which of course has the wonderful effect of making me sensible and self-limiting.

There was snow on the ground Monday, November 12, and I had 188 miles to go. I even had to ride the trainer the next day, just so I wouldn't have too many days off. But then I jumped in with a vengeance: 19, 23, 17, 25. My plan was to have a light regular day and push a little extra mileage every other day.

I rode 21 miles (a horribly windy day which would only be more windy later so get out now!) and came back knowing that one of my tires was toast. As soon as I got out of the shower I went to the bike shop to get it changed right then so I could ride the next day. I worked out that I had over 6,000 miles on that tire. (Isn't Kevlar wonderful?)

I went 26 miles, 23 miles, 21 miles…The additional time commitment wasn't great. I could complete the longest rides in under 90 minutes; most days I was only gone for an extra 15 minutes.

On Thanksgiving Day, while everyone else was preparing and eating a holiday feast I was all alone on the bike path (I saw about 6 other cyclists the entire ride) peddling my way to 3,005 miles.

I'd completed 9 consecutive high-mileage days (I didn't dare take a day off in case rain or snow was coming; and I had the good fortune to ride before the rain fell on two of those days). My hands were doing great. In fact I'd never felt stronger. So Friday I took the day off and went to a deli with my friend Marsha!

I'd been lucky in temperature too. While there were some 35-39 degree days in that final few weeks, and some really windy days (more than 30 mph), the final 9 days contained several 40 to 54 degree days. It didn't feel like a slog at all.

Snow fell that Friday. A light snow, but it brought ice. It wasn't until December 1 that I was able to get out on the road again. I didn't know it then, but I only had three more outside rides. Despite pleasant riding conditions none were blow out rides. All were 17 to 20 miles. I resisted any urges to ride longer distances. I knew I wasn't going for 3,500 miles, just as I'd earlier predicted.

Twenty minutes into one of those 20 mile rides my bicycle computer battery died (but I'd been that way so often I knew the exact mileage). I had to finish my ride the old fashioned way—with a beat, sense memory, and adrenaline. I crushed it. I was filled with joy.

I road 3,060 miles in 2012.

It might not sound like it, but in those two weeks or so, I got my life back, because what I did was ride for the joy of riding, as many miles as I wanted (which just happened to be a lot). I didn't think about my totals. I rode more slowly some days (when it was really windy) without frustration because I wasn't trying to beat the clock, I was just riding.

Last year I'd been bothered by my addictive stance towards bicycling.A mentor had told me to rediscover what it was I loved about cycling in order to bust out of the obsessiveness of my relationship with it. November 2012 was when I did that.

I still had to use my will. I still had to ride on my gut several days (because of the back issues), but I found a way to listen to myself and push myself at the same time. (Just because you love something and find joy in it doesn't mean there aren't going to be difficult, impossible days. The key is to do it anyway.)

I loved every moment of biking this fall. It wasn't something to tick off, to get done in an hour and go on to something else. It was something I got to savor. It was also something I was gambling on because there was always that promised colder, snowy weather coming.

I've experienced this flip from obsession to joy one other time in my life. That's exactly what happened to me when I was 17 and had been journaling obsessively all my life. I met my mentor Thom and he helped me journal without obsession, purely from a love of expression.

We have to make that flip every day about a host of things. Sometimes there are people in our lives who help us make that flip. Other times we're alone and we have to make that flip alone. It's always nice when you can share that joy with someone and they appreciate it, but for 23 years since Thom's death I've had to make that journaling flip every day for myself. That's life. Everyday you have to live on your will and step in and do it (whatever it is), but there has to be joy in it.

When people show you how to have joy in your life, take it and run with it.

And if you find that you're losing the joy from something you've always loved talk to someone you trust about it and find a way to get that joy back. It is absolutely vital.

Just don't go running around the house saying "Feel my thighs," as you poke your now rock hard unflexed quads in invitation. That's just plain obnoxious.

What am I saying?! Yes, do that! Especially if it is just plain obnoxious—because there's a lot of joy in that too.

August 02, 2012

Paws on Grand is this Sunday—August 5, 2012—along Grand Ave. in St. Paul.

At Wet Paint there will be several artists doing free pet portraits from noon to 3 p.m. (Voluntary donations will be accepted for "The Pet Project" a group that focuses on assisting families in need to keep their pets. The group also provides access to veterinary services and gets pet food on food shelves, etc.)

If you are interested in having a quick portrait of your animal sketched (we try to get them done in 6 to 10 minutes) consider coming earlier in the event rather than later. This is a popular event. There will be a place to check in and get a number. Then when an artist is free, i.e., as soon as he or she has completed a sketch, your number will be called and you can take a seat. As we near the end of the event numbers are no longer given out because there are enough people waiting and the artists are working as fast as they can. So please plan accordingly.

Wet Paint is pet-friendly—they allow pets in the store.

On Sunday, August 5, 2012 only for Paws on Grand they will be offering 20 percent off any product you can find in the store which features an animal on the packaging. A how to draw animals book? Yes. Insect coloring book? Yes. Tim reports that even the Faber-Castell horsey counts. (Note: the offer is not good for already discounted items, and this would include the gouache set with my owl painting on the label—but the set is already priced at such a discount that you might just need to pick one of those up anyway.)

May 25, 2012

Above: Most of the participants (some people ducked out early to avoid parking tickets at their lapsed parking meters) from the May 21, 2012 meeting, holding up their completed books. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

We maybe didn't qualify for the Guiness World Record for number of people making a book at one time on Monday, but the 30 people people who attended the May meeting made short work of their Japanese Double Pamphlets.

Strathmore graciously sent us sheets of their Strathmore 500 Series Mixed Media Paper so that we could make books and test out the paper for journaling. Each participant brought cover paper pre-cut following directions I'd posted earlier.

Right: We used every available flat space to work on, and some quick thinking participants spied collapsible tables and set them up around the presses giving us four more work stations. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

People who read my blog know I fell in love with this paper when it came out in the Strathmore wirebound mixed media journals in 2010. I begged to have full sheets available so that I could bind my own books out of it. I am excited to be able to introduce other artists to this paper. (You can search for entries on the blog about this paper by using my search engine and looking for "Strathmore 500 Series Mixed Media Paper.")

As you see in the photo we used every available flat space in the flexi-space of MCBA.

Left: Some of the instruction sheets I taped to the walls so that people could look up if they got lost and I was busy helping someone else. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

After my paper tearing demonstration eleven people started tearing their paper down to pages sometimes referring to the instructions I'd written on large sheets of paper and taped all around the room, sometimes asking me for assistance. When one person finished another took the available spot. When everyone had completed the sheet tearing we moved on to folding pages, gathering signatures, folding covers, and sewing.

Left: Here we see part of the group working on the sewing of their books. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

Since it's inevitable that people in a group this large are going to work at different speeds there was a little bit of time before everyone finished sewing when I asked Karen Engelbretson to share her latest Japanese Double Pamphlet adventures with us.

Left: Karen Engelbretson shows one of the pages spreads from her Florida Trip journal made as a Japanese Double Pamphlet with Arches Text Wove (Arches Velin) for the text pages. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

Left: I don't have a photo of the books we made on Monday, but these Japanese Double Pamphlets made with Arches Text Wove give you an idea of the structure. See the back left book. Looking down into the book you can see the central pleat of the cover which falls between the signatures. The book is sewn as a single unit, the two signatures and cover, at once. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

Our books ended up being approximately 7.75 x 5.75 inches. Some people brought cover paper wide enough to fold in at the fore edges to make flaps, others trimmed their covers after the sewing, so that there was only a slight overhang at the fore edge.

Right: Suzanne Hughes brought a lovely cover strip of Arches Cover which she had previously painted with her paste paper techniques. Her cover flaps were not yet folded in when I took this picture—I was attracted to the lovely blues and greens of her design. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

I want to thank everyone for jumping right in with a can-do attitude regardless of skill level. Everyone came with a great sense of humor. People stepped in to help each other and we got the job done! We even finished before our 2-hour meeting time was up!

Thanks to Marsha and Janice for helping everyone sign in while I set up the room (with help from a very tall woman whose name I'm sorry I can't remember—but she kept me from falling off a table!)

I want to thank Strathmore again for their generous gift of paper which made this free bookbinding session possible.

I cannot wait until everyone returns to future meetings with filled books! I don't think anyone really understands how insanely happy this makes me. Thank you all for making it a very fun evening. Next year maybe we should go for the record. We already have a system down!

December 28, 2011

Left: Me after my 18.2 mile bike ride on December 25, 2011, yes, December 25, 2011, in Minneapolis, MN. I'm wearing tights and a long tshirt and a longsleeved turtleneck in accommodation to the cool 40 degree weather. (Also full gloves and I have earmuffs under my helmet.) But I never felt chilled for a moment even though there were 20 mph winds that day. Look at how beautiful that blue sky is! Click on the image to view an enlargement.

I have been a complete shit the past several weeks (gulp, two months?!). There is no other way to say it. I am an addict. The bicycle, or rather the endorphins that I generate while on the bicycle are my drug of choice. (I also can't say enough about it as a pain management tool and a physical therapy aid!) As the weather cools down in Minnesota and specifically as snow falls, I have to give up the bicycle until spring. Outside bicycling. I can still ride my bike on the trainer inside, watching Robbie Ventura speed through a race telling us all to keep the rubber side down. As much as I love Robbie—and I must because I haven't purchased another tape and watch this over and over quite happily—inside riding is a totally different animal of existence from outside riding.

All fall I kept reminding myself how grateful I was to not be sick. This is the first time in two years I have not been ill in September after the exposure of the Minnesota State Fair. (2009 Bird Flu; 2010 pneumonia.)

Fall is a glorious time to ride a bike in Minneapolis. The parkways are beautiful and green and then they are golden, red, brown—luxurious. The light slants (something about the tilt of the earth or some other science fact you can go look up) and takes on the tint of the newly translucent dying leaves. (In spring there is a similar effect with a barrage of greens.)

I was ill for months earlier in the spring (some mystery virus the doctor couldn't grip, but which eased out of my body in its own time) and I missed many days of cycling. I grumbled a lot. I pouted. I wasn't easy to deal with then. I saw my goal of hitting 2,000 miles for the season slipping away. But then after the Fair when I didn't get ill I found myself hoping for dry days (we'd had a rainy summer) to ride, just one more day, just one more day above 50 degrees. This morphed to a wish for one more day above 40. And as of December 2011 it has mutated into a wish for anything over 35 with no accumulated snow.

Which leads me to my current dilemma and bad behavior. The end of cycling season seems to me very much like break-up sex. You have this person (or in this case activity; well I guess in both cases it's an activity) and you really, really want just one more go at it. You get all set in your mind that this is the last time, the final time. You even tell yourself that it's right, that you really are too tired (in the biking situation) and that it's time to move on.

But then in the case of bicycling the weather this fall has changed, and it's on again, the whole compulsive act of it. Don't even try to arrange a lunch with me in the fall because as the temperature falls I exercise my freedom as a self-employed person to bike at lunch time when it's still "warm enough." And so the season elongates. And so does the stress of wondering when it is going to end (if you're an addict).

I started talking about moving to California sometime in November. Dick countered with questions about whether or not I could ride in a velodrome—something you would expect from a MacGyver engineer. We both laughed, knowing one of us (me, if you had to guess) wasn't serious.

Then something unthinkable happened on October 19, I popped over 2,000 miles for the season. I began to make new deals with myself (don't all addicts do this), while at the same time making new preparations for disappointment (again, not a healthy mode). Maybe I'll get to 2,500? Nope, there just aren't enough days left, enough days that can be both over 40 degrees and have no snow on the ground. Not in Minneapolis in November…

Then it snowed, a good covering. I thought, "It's over." I began putting time in on the inside bike. (Inside bike miles don't count in my seasonal total; I keep track of duration.)

But the snow melted when we experienced record high temperatures. I found myself riding most days outside again. But of course there was always the expectation of a temperature dip and some weeks I faced 4 or 5 days of resignation that it all really was over and the inside bike was my only recourse. I would just get used to riding daily inside when the weather would warm up again.

And the snow would melt. Last weekend while I was binding books I was also able to ride my bike outside every day. A solid 40 degrees F, with equally solid wind speeds (on one day the winds were 25 to 38 mph). I rode outside last Friday, returned excited, and told Dick, seconds after dismounting, "I miss it already." Such was the roller coaster of my emotions; and the deepness of my addiction.

I do miss it already, even though it looks like I might get one more day in before the New Year, which for me would be an official end to my outside seasonal miles total.

I miss it for a lot of reasons. I miss the speed. I miss the light. I miss my body moving with the gears and propelling me forward into wind or calm. I simply miss the going and the coming, because just as I never get bored with Robbie I don't get dulled by the same out and back trail which takes me across the city and lets me see what's going on within that city. I'm always wondering "how fast can I push it today?"

After a bit of a ramp up in the spring, because I'm protective of my knees, I ride 17 to 22 miles per non-rainy day. The mileage is a function of two things. First what can I get accomplished in a hour or slightly more? (Believe me there is a lot of bargaining around those limits; what if I did go more per day, what could I still get done in my life?) Second what can I do daily without the road noise impacting on my hands and the work I must do daily with those hands. (You guessed it, more bargaining, "I don't really need to bead, I really should focus on my painting anyway." For a person who prides herself on being orderly this type of back and forth bargaining is excruciating, and a huge dose of my own medicine—you have to make choices.)

Additionally the mileage is a function of me enjoying myself, me pushing myself. Me having fun. This is my time. I get to focus on being strong, no matter how achy or weak or sick I might feel (in our house we do our workouts unless there is loss of limb or major loss of blood). I find that is a great way to return to work: strong. And on my ride I find that my brain doesn't wander, but focuses. Crystal clear ideas come to me, whole passages of writing, illustration ideas, and new projects.

It's the spin of the gears, silence, sort of, a whir that says "power," that sets my mind running in these powerful ways. I whisper blessings on the heads of mothers who raised their kids to work in the bicycle co-ops; the kids who tune my bike to perfection and smile when a woman old enough to be their mother comes in to have her tires changed and buy "gear." These are polite, respectful, considerate kids with problem solving skills, who take all this strength of character and curiosity of mind with them into whatever area of life they branch out into.

Mothers of the bicycle co-op kids are deserving of our gratitude. They have raised their kids to love the Earth, to seek community, to embrace physicality, and to delight in the mechanical (which engages both intuition and intellect).

It's on these pillars that any civilized (and civil) society can be built. That and joy—because it's the experience of joy in however small a dose it comes that makes us hunger for peace.

I will leave you with one other thought—an image. I couldn't paint this if I lived to be 100. Maybe someone with the skill of Sargent could because he understood light—but noses and the micro expressions of his patrons were his focus. Perhaps Girtin? If Turner was right and Girtin was all that.

One day this fall I was peddling down the Greenway, past the lakes and the dog park. The morning light slanted down the shaded path and filtered through the remaining leaves, illuminating the spider filaments attached to every fragment of surface on the black epoxy coated chain link fence. They sparkled, fluttering in the light, as dense as pennants at an Australian regatta.

Joy—to have seen one sight, or the other. Gratitude to have seen both in the span of one life. Each time I was on a bicycle.

Note: I wrote this on Tuesday, at which point I needed 21 miles to crack 2,500 for the season. Whether I do or not will be a function of the weather and my constant striving to not be compulsive, and to find balance, but at the same time grab every opportunity for joy that I can. In spring the dialog will begin again.

Note 2: It just occurred to me that some of you might like to read about my return to biking after a long haitus with the dogs, in July 2008. "Hairdos Matter" is all about it.